The person I tolerate the most
by mysticpotion
Summary: Who was really with House when he woke up after being shot? Hilson Friendship.


**The person I tolerate the most**

The light shimmered into the room. Silence. The machines that both gave life and watched it fade away, were still. Two eyes strained themselves to open and cast a scowl in the direction of the hospital hallway. It took several more minutes before the Simon Cowell of the medical profession could bring himself to utter those inevitable words. Those words he had been itching to say since the bullets ripped through his skin. Those words, that seemed strange to utter, yet not surprising given his attitude to life and those within it.

"That bastard shot me."

It escaped through his lips in no more than a whimper. As if to make a point they came again, only sharper.

"That bastard shot me."

Then the laughing fit began, and he was back.

A voice to his right confirmed what he had expected all along. He was not alone in the room. He tilted his head and saw the familiar face of Wilson smiling back at him.

"I'd like to say that I'm shocked you find getting severely wounded hysterical but with your sick and depraved mind it's not an option."

House just looked at him, emotionless, giving nothing away and holding the best poker face he had. He didn't like Wilson. Well that's not true. He hated Wilson. He had the annoying knack of being in the right place at the right time.

"Shouldn't you be at home with your wife?"

Wilson cast a worried glance at his work colleague and his best friend. As if sensing his thoughts, House let out another weak laugh.

"I'm not suffering from memory loss…at least I don't think I am. It's hard to tell."

"Then why…"

"Cause I like screwing with you…so how far along is the divorce proceedings, or to put it another way, how long have I been out?"

"Five days."

"I've been shot for five whole days and no one woke me up to tell me. Well that's just plain cruel."

"Quit it House, stop deflecting."

"Deflecting what?"

"What you're feeling."

"What is it with you? Why must every conversation between us turn into a bad episode of Dr Phil? Five days in a coma and I still can't escape it. You could have asked me anything. You could have said what does it feel like to be shot twice?

He rubbed the sore spot were the bullet had pierced.

"Once in the neck apparently, then you could have said, how cool is this? Stop being so damn interested in my thoughts and feelings and start acting like a proper friend."

"And what's your definition of a proper friend, dare I ask."

"One who isn't interested in what's going on in my mind, that couldn't care less if I've shed tears over this and is thinking of what's the best way to smuggle me in a playboy, a cold beer and some decent food."

"It's interesting you chose the words shed tears, have you?"

"Less Dr Phil, more Paul Mckenna"

"House, Paul Mckenna is a hypnotist."

"Hypnotist… Psychologist. Same thing."

"How is that the same thing?"

"They deceive you. Make you lose touch with reality. They brainwash you and make you pay for the privilege. Then you come out with a smile on your face and don't know why or how it got there."

"You really do have issues my friend."

"Yeah that's what _they_ said. Wanna hear what I said?

"No."

"I knew you'd wanna know. I told them I don't trust anyone who got their degree from Hogwarts."

Wilson placed his hands on his hips, sweeping the edges of the Doctor's coat back into a ruffled mess behind him, and shot House his own brand of special look. The patented, 'you've single handedly aged me ten years,' look he did so well.

"That's it; I'm decreasing your Morphine supply."

"I'm not drugged up."

Again the look appeared on Wilson's tired face. This man had put him through so much turmoil in the last couple of days. He didn't know whether he could honestly complete this conversation without breaking down into a exhausted heap. However he simply had to.

His thoughts were interrupted by further proclamations by the diagnostician.

"Well no more than usual. Anyway I didn't mean to say Paul McKenna."

Some moments passed.

"I meant to say Franz Mesmer…way cooler."

Wilson knew House was trying his best to sidetrack the issue. It would be easy for them to continue in their usual easy going manner but it wouldn't help House, therefore he had to press. He had to ask the question again. No matter how ridiculous. He had to keep them on the path that led to House discussing the incident. Not the one that saw them talk about an Austrian doctor who liked to dart about in a black cape.

Wilson repeated the question. House cracked. They were back on track.

"The words, SHED TEARS, aren't interesting Wilson. What is, is that I deliberately used them cause I knew you'd wanna discuss them like the 12 year old girl scout you are. And how could I have you idiot, I just woke up. And while I'm at it your face is hardly the best thing to wake up to after five days in a coma, unless you were trying to induce another one."

"I'm sorry Cameron wasn't available for your pleasure this evening."

"Who said I wanted Cameron? I was only shooting for something slightly more pleasant to my eyes. The guy with the swollen tongue would have done. At least I'd have gotten a laugh from him. Hell waking up to Vogler naked and doing a Scottish jig would have been more preferable than you."

"Why do you have to be so smart?"

"Why do you have be such a woman?... Answer…… because it's in our natures.

If it's not one thing it's another.

How's your leg? How are you feeling? Your on too much vicodin…How are you feeling?…..Your turning into a drug addict…. How are you feeling?… Stacy's left you… How are you feeling?…..Some wacko walked into your office and blew two holes in you…By the way how _are_ you feeling?"

"Your right it's terrible that I care about your well being, what an asshole I am."

"Finally, we agree on something."

"I just thought, well that you'd need someone to talk to about all of this when you woke up. But clearly I'm wrong."

"No I wanna talk about it. First question. Have they caught Billy the kid yet?"

House looked at Wilson and from his expression did not need the answer to that particular quandary, however dutifully it came.

"No they haven't. But the hospital is doing everything in terms of security and the police are following up on some leads..."

"Brilliant. Well I'm sure he'll lay low for a while. Just long enough for the primary injuries to heal then its back for some more target practice."

"That isn't going to happen House. Cuddy's stepped up security and..."

"And what Wilson? Do you think that's going to stop him? Two extra candidates for weight watchers monitoring the doors and coughing up doughnuts. Please!

Again some moments passed.

"Anyway Cuddy probably paid him to do it."

"Actually it was a whip round from the whole department. He was listed as Killer Kissogram. That's the last time we let Chase book the entertainment."

The diagnostician laughed at Wilson's last remark. He could be such a baby but he had his moments. His moments when you could see that friendship with House had rubbed off on him. However House's good mood quickly faded upon the Oncologists next words.

"I think we should change the subject."

Little did House know that Wilson had no intention of changing the subject. Now that he had House's attention he was ensuring that it stayed that way. And the only way of doing that was to make the diagnostician think that he was in control. However there were consequences of playing out such a risky strategy.

He knew his personal life was about to be shot down in flames.

"Really Wilson, well what do you want to change the subject to? How about your inability to commit to a long lasting marriage? Or the fact that your last meaningful relationship was with dead woman walking. How is she by the way? In good health I hope."

Wilson stared at the man before him. If he only knew how much he would have loved to strangle him were he lay at that moment, he would have probably smiled and thought of something else that would surely tip him over the edge. This never came however. Wilson had the patience of a saint but mostly Wilson knew his game too well. A rather clear if not predictable term of phrase came to his mind at that moment, 'you'll not get rid of me that easily'. His next words were ones of calmness.

"I'll ignore that since you did get shot…can't think how that happened by the way."

Both sets of eyes penetrated the other, neither giving an inch on what was being felt at that moment. Some time passed. Eventually House spoke.

"You know it was always my dream to be a doctor. To help people, heal them."

"Really!"

Wilson was glad of the shift in topic from his own shortcomings but mostly he was sure that there was another bout of sarcasm on its way.

"Yes I always wanted to see that special look in the relative's eyes, you know that look, that one that says, I'm going to line you with lead you insensitive bastard. And that day has come. It fills me with such joy, it really does."

Wilson shot him a different look this time. A look that screamed defeat.

"No honestly, I don't think I'll ever need to be shot again. Two bullets is enough gratitude for any man's lifetime."

No more words were said after that. The Oncologist knew he wasn't getting anymore blood from the stone that night. It was no use forcing House to speak about the issue truthfully and to let him in, which only happened on times of rarity.

However, when he did open up and when he did let you in to that strange and wondrous mind, all the moments of bitterness and volatile attacking of your character was worth it. Worth it because each time Wilson managed it, he healed a little piece of his friend untouched by any other soul. However tonight he had failed, but at least he was talking about it.

There was not much House could throw at Wilson that would get rid of him, and House knew this, but like one of his medical puzzles he never stopped trying to crack him.

He hated how skillful the Oncologist was at wearing down his defenses. He hated how much the man could get to him, simply with a look or a skillfully placed question. Most of all though, he hated that in his own twisted way he loved him for it.

Eventually Wilson realized that for tonight at least there would be no more 'good humored' conversation from his friend. It was time to let him sleep.

"Get some rest House, take two vicodin and call me in the morning."

"Wilson."

"Yeah?"

"Quit being a smartass, it doesn't suit you."

"And Wilson"

"Yeeees."

"Thanks for being. For being…"

House lay staring at him for some moments until a wry smile spread across his face.

"Thanks for being the person I tolerate the most."

A smile spread across Wilson's face. Maybe he hadn't failed as badly as he thought.

"Sleeeep."

And with that he was gone, and House was alone in his thoughts. He liked it that way but part of him wanted the person he tolerated the most back in the room with him, just until the darkness and uncertainty night brought faded to the cold light of day.

House eventually drifted to sleep, the ringing of Cameron's petrified shrieks on a constant loop in his ear.

The person whom he tolerated the most checked up on him several times that night, praying that his friend would open up to him sooner rather than later, hoping that good news regarding his leg would come from an examination in the morning, and wondering if they would ever catch the scumbag who did this to him.


End file.
